Twine - Playing Parts

Me? Twine. Like a string. Twine. Twine of the Paint. Pleasure to meet you. What did I do? Well, this morning I was out by the market stalls. Minding my business and collecting dirty looks. Sizing up the quarry in a way. The pillar I rested against was cold at my back, uncomfortable in nature, but the cold rough stone did wonders for my skin. It soothed the tingling nerves and insistent itching. Flaking off the flaky bits. When no one was looking, I would shuffle against it, scratching myself. Such a wonderous sensation. My job at that moment was to catch eyes and that I did. Between fits of coughing or getting caught in the act of scratching myself against the post like a cat, passerby would ask if I were alright. I would smile and show a mangled toothy grin. "Why, yes. I am fine. More than fine actually." I would say, if I could speak that long without a wheeze or a cough parting the words. They would look disgusted or worried then continue about their day. Guards would occasionally give me trouble, but the paint did well in masking the severity of my blessing. It was part paint, part ointment, a mask over root-like veins and discolored splotches. "You've got the Rattles, I bet. I can direct you to the healer if you want, lass." the last guard so generously offered. But no, "I am fine, sir" with a lean in toward him put him on his way. Their concern isn't so much concern for my wellbeing as it is concern that I might spread whatever it is that ails me. A rightful concern, but the blessing of Peryite is no ailment.

As I played distraction in the plaza, Nanine and Nand set about acquiring a cart of foodstuffs. I was to give them an hour or so to do their job, then I was free to pilfer a few things for myself before heading home. Once they had finished, a pair of howls outside the gate was my signal to leave. The Redguards had succeeded unnoticed and now it was a Bosmer's time to play. After finding nothing of interest in the stalls, I crept into a dusty little shop and began perusing the wares. I forgot my satchel so it would have to be something small enough to stuff down my top. Times like this are hard for me, what with the cough and wheeze and fiddlesticks as I call it. I am a clumsy sort and the tremors make it worse. If I picked something up, I must be quick about shoving it down my blouse or I would stand chance to drop it. Around the back shelf, I found a tiny bit of bread. My first mark. Down the blouse it went. The shopkeep paid little mind, aside from a quick glance every time I coughed. Her assistant came in a few moments later and as they spoke, I pried open a door in the back.

Nothing of value out in the open, but beneath a pillow I found a statue of Dibella. A small one, just small enough, I thought. Down it went, but I was mistaken. It left a rather noticeable bulge between my breasts. This would not do. I wrestled with it as I walked but it got caught in the fabric and would not come out. At once I heard a voice at my back and felt the pierce of his gaze. "What have ye got down your shirt, miss?" cried the assistant. "Nothing, sir." I replied, turning to face him with the look of an innocent puppy, saddened and surprised by the accusation with not a fiber of guilt to be found. "I saw you go in the backroom, girl. Now you tell me what you took or I'll be calling the guard". As things grew more heated, the shopkeep rounded the counter and joined him. Shaking her fists, she took another step toward me and I lost my cool.

My eyes glazed over and my jaw fell slack with a blessed cloud erupting from my core. It poured down to the floor like coated it like a morning mist. The assistant gasped and backpedaled, bumping into the railing and falling onto his bottom. The mist flowed from my mouth and all about the room, encircling us in His blessed scent. Like rot and mud, the man gurgled and heaved as I drew ever nearer. Leaning over his twitching body, the last cloud rolled from my tongue with a cough. Looking down at him, watching the blessing take root, my thoughts turned to Loril. She would be very upset with me. Two decades under her wing and I still make mistakes. "Oh well...". I would go starved of food and her touch, but win back her graces in time. Such is the way of the Paint. I burst through the door at full speed, only to find myself face to face with a guard. Rather than make things more difficult for her, I surrendered. The assistant was rushed to a healer, though I am not sure if he will live. I made a real mess of things but at least they only put one guard on duty. And so here we are, fellow prisoner.

Oh, do you see that Bosmer that just walked in? That is Loril, my benevolent host. It's a matter of formalities now, her cloak is already off and he has clearly taken the bait. He'll be out cold by morning. Just sit back and enjoy the show. Why don't you tell me how you ended up in that cage in the meantime?

No, I'm not contagious, not from this distance anyway. I promise.